


Glitter Guns & Lies

by Foodmoon



Series: Of Tea and Glitter Guns and Cats [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Antagonism, Gen, Glitter guns, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Q vs old Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 17:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13506462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foodmoon/pseuds/Foodmoon
Summary: Q comes home to find an unwelcome guest in his bed. Again.





	Glitter Guns & Lies

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine.

The second time Q comes home to find Bond asleep in his bed, he hiccups. Or possibly makes a sound that sounds like muffled, startled alarm if the way his cats’ heads pop up and stare at him in worry is any indication. He’s going to ignore his cats’ opinion on the matter. It was a hiccup.  
  
  
Bond’s eyes flicker open for a moment, just long enough to focus on him, dismiss him with an unearned lack of alarm, and sweep shut again.  
  
  
_**That. Is infuriating.**_  
  
  
He might not be a pyromaniac like Boothroyd had been _(and was it pyromania if the man just liked explosions, not fires?),_ but he was no slouch either. He huffs and stamps into the living room instead, not tired enough yet to ignore a spy imitating a giant cat in his bed. _**Again.**_ Bond obviously has a death wish, given his repeat of invading Q’s personal territory. Maybe he should indulge it. He’s going to send the man out with stone-age bows and arrows for his next mission just to see if he can make _those_ explode too.  
  
  
He designs a glitter gun.  
  
  
Q will admit to doing so with a great deal of evil amusement and malice. If Bond’s going to make everything explode when it’s not supposed to, the least he can do is make it so it will explode in the most annoying manner possible. Annoying for Bond, that is. Okay, and probably his enemies too, given how ineradicable glitter seems to be once present in a room.  
  
  
The bullets are lethal, of course.  
  
  
He’s not going to stoop so low as to actually get his agent killed. No matter how aggravating he is. If nothing else, the lectures from M will not be worth the amusement factor if Bond dies. Nor is he about to demean his tech in that manner. His tech deserves better.  
  
  
Q is quite proud of the end result. Until he realizes that if he actually builds the thing, 006 and at least two other 00s are going to want one too. It would be a terrible, terrible thing if a fitting revenge was mistaken as a reward.  
  
  
He shuffles the design into an unimportant file and closes his laptop. A brief survey of his kitchen reveals another empty baggie of cat treats in the bin. Unsurprising.  
  
  
There is not another new box of tea. There is, however, a crystal pitcher full of high grade honey. And how Bond managed to find something so unusually packaged is beyond him. But, well. He likes honey, and he still has a fair amount of the tea from last time.  
  
  
He’s not sure why he opens the fridge. He just does. Chalk it up to exhaustion and sulking. Then he stares for a full minute. There’s a matching pitcher of what appears to be high grade cream. That is really a bit much. Is Bond under the impression that he’s home often enough to use even half of that before it goes off? Because, if so, it will lower Q’s estimate of his intelligence a fair bit. Lips twisting, he shuts the fridge door, then sighs and gives up.  
  
  
This time when he crawls in beside Bond, he’s less ginger about it, but he still keeps a wary eye on the spy until he’s fully settled. Once again, Bond doesn’t so much as twitch during the process. Rosey stakes her claim on Q’s chest. Sleep asserts its sovereignty.  
  
  
And in the morning?  
  
  
Bond is gone again, and so is two thirds of the cream in the pitcher. Q has no idea what the spy used to take it with him. But maybe, just maybe, his opinion of Bond’s intelligence doesn’t drop. He might even say that it went up a little.  
  
  
But that would be a lie.  
  
  
_A filthy, dirty lie._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This is the third fic to fall out today, and it's a bit traumatizing, as I've never even remotely succeeded at a fanfic before.  
> I know it's rough, no need to tell me.  
> Someone please gag my muse. I like my sanity. What bits of it are left.  
> Editing comments are okay, but please be gentle.  
> Formatting is still a mysterious beast.


End file.
